


Rub Us All the Right Ways

by Jaune_Chat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 5 Acts Meme, F/M, Fingerfucking, Frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:09:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaune_Chat/pseuds/Jaune_Chat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha can give Clint everything he needs with just the right touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rub Us All the Right Ways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Сделай это правильно](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3142712) by [Walter_Kovacs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walter_Kovacs/pseuds/Walter_Kovacs)



> Written for [Five Acts](http://heeroluva.livejournal.com/250594.html) for [geckoholic](http://geckoholic.livejournal.com/278671.html?thread=4989839) for the acts: Fingering/Frottage.

Natasha had one arm wrapped around his shoulders, her pale, perfect fingers digging into the tanned, scarred swell of his right deltoid, his left pressed between her breasts, warm softness with the hard peaks of her nipples cushioning him. His head was tilted back into the curtain of her hair, her mouth sometimes finding his, sometimes trailing down his neck, depending on how much she wanted to hear him.

Right now his neck was under delicious assault because her other hand was gliding over the crease of his hip and behind his balls, leaving behind a slick, warm trail of the lube Clint had slowly trickled over her hand earlier. He'd watched her hand glistening in the dim lamplight, smooth, short fingernails shining gold, and couldn't look at the glittering path now, or he'd disgrace himself. Her wrist had barely touched his cock, but that had never been her goal.

"Natasha." He breathed out her name, the last syllable catching slightly as one finger gently rubbed against his hole. Slick, warm, just enough pressure to feel it, he spread his bent legs wider and tilted his hips up on their cushion.

Natasha's tongue did something, a wet and filthy swirl along the path of his carotid artery, and her finger seemed to spiral in at the same time, breaching him with ease.

"God, Nat." He groaned deep in his chest as she just wiggled her finger slightly, letting him feel her presence, letting him know she was _there_. It was a tease, maddening, and it took Clint too much self-control to stop himself from trying to push back against her. He gritted his teeth until another open-mouthed kiss backed with teeth made him moan and then gasp as she worked another finger into him.

The burn was starting, heat and stretch and the scent of Natasha's shampoo combining with her musk as she eeled her body against his. He could feel her wrapping herself around him, grinding against his hip, her arousal marking him as she picked up the pace. Clint keened when she added another finger, deeper and faster and harder, rocking her hand and hips and lips against him.

The stretch and burn had been enough, Clint's cock hard and glistening with pre-come as Natasha worked him over, but when she changed her angle, her fingers seeking out that one spot inside him and pressing down unerringly, Clint let out a full-throated cry, almost a sob. Natasha gripped his shoulders hard as he thrashed, his hips driving down against her fingers, her rubbing off against him in a feat of athletic coordination Clint could only admire later, once his pleasure-drunk mind had reacquired coherency. 

He knew he was chanting mindlessly, an incoherent begging with every thrust, every breath, an, "Oh, oh, oh..." that he'd deny later, but now was so very necessary. He needed that pressure, that burn, her fingers (three, no, _four_ now, God) stretching him, owning him, her lips and teeth decorating his throat with bruises. Natasha held him firm within her grasp, her mouth suddenly fastened on the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder, and _pushed_ into him, his ass swallowing her knuckles even as her thumb pressed firmly against his balls.

Clint dropped, soaring, free-falling, hearing Natasha's victory cry against his neck even as his come spattered against them both. Warmth radiated against his side as Natasha shook through her own climax, rhythmically sliding her slickness against his hip. He fell slack, boneless, Natasha no longer holding him, but entangled with him as she pulled free of his body. Working one sex-weakened arm over to her, he managed to pull her into a brief and gentle kiss, and got a smile of understanding in return.


End file.
